


Sentry

by dvs



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-30
Updated: 2010-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-06 20:43:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dvs/pseuds/dvs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uther ruminates on men and magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sentry

Arthur smacked the servant on his behind with the flat of his sword and the boy did no more than roll his eyes as the young prince laughed. Uther frowned, shaking his head at the servant's impertinence and Arthur's tolerance of it. One day he would be king. Such tolerance could be his undoing.

Rule with an iron fist, Uther's father had told him, and men will follow you into battle without question. Rule with a little love, his queen had told him, and Camelot will follow you to the end of the world. And Uther knew, one must choose between being a king and a man. Without Arthur's mother that choice became ever simpler.

But Arthur, with that same questioning look his mother once possessed... The sword in his hand would serve as a useless weapon if his heart began to concern itself with mercy and tolerance. Uther had seen the look in his son's eyes as Lancelot left. He said nothing to Uther, but his parting look said everything. How many could Uther send away because of his rules and codes before all he would have left of Camelot would be the cold stone walls? However many it took, Uther told himself.

On the castle grounds, Arthur effortlessly tripped the boy as he mock trained. What was his name? Myrddin? Uther frowned. This Myrddin... he seemed inconsequential. He wasn't a soldier or a scientist. He was just a dogsbody. Perhaps Uther could allow Arthur the joy of his company. The boy had saved Arthur's life after all.

So had Lancelot, it seemed. But Lancelot... No, he could never return. No one wielding magic and lies could ever be a part of Camelot.

## 

*

Uther found it hard to remember the last time he slept completely through a night. Maybe it was the curse of a king to spend nights pacing. He walked silently through the corridors of the castle, taking comfort in the gentle glow of torchlight. All was well tonight.

Still, his feet took him into the darker heart of Camelot, the caverns where old magic had been manacled as a reminder of bleaker times.

"Sire." The dragon's greeting had a touch of mockery to it. Uther let it pass. "To what do I owe this honour?"

Uther eyed the manacles that kept the dragon in his place. "It appears your prophesies continue to be a thorn in my side."

"It is all I have, Sire." The dragon had the audacity to shake the chains of his manacles.

"You foretold that a young man would one day come to Camelot. A young man with magical powers. One whose destiny would be intertwined with the future king. Did you not?"

"I recall something along those lines," the dragon said with a slit-eyed tilt of his head.

“A strong king and a mighty sorcerer watching over this kingdom."

"It is the future of Camelot. Its destiny."

"Yes, well, destinies are not set in stone," Uther said dismissively. "Your sorcerer has come and gone. And whatever his dreams of returning are, he does not realise he has had his moment of glory. I will see to it that he never returns."

"Lancelot," the dragon said after a moment. Uther wondered if that mouth could really be smiling. "He will return. And the king shall greet him most warmly."

Uther laughed. "I would do no such thing."

"No," the dragon said slowly. "You would not."

The smile faltered on Uther's lips. "I will not let even the shadow of magic fall upon my son!" he shouted, letting the cavern walls pass along his vow from wall to wall.

"And yet, it is the shadow of magic that protects your son," the dragon said, infuriatingly calm. “That will continue to protect him.”

Uther felt tremors of anger threatening to break the surface of his skin. He chose to say nothing, watching as the dragon moved nearer, bringing them close enough that the creature's huge eyes were like discoloured mirrors, showing Uther his own taut face, his body breathing measured breaths with barely concealed rage.

"Your fear has made you so blind," the dragon whispered.

"My _fear_ is what keeps Camelot safe," Uther said, restraint wearing thin. "Safe from your likes. I will never let the abomination of magic into this kingdom again. Be grateful that I have been merciful and let you live."

The dragon pulled back, his great wings flapping by his side as he settled on his rocky perch again. "I am most certain it is your arrogance that keeps me alive, Sire. Tell me, will you rid this land of all who embrace magic?"

"You know the penalty," Uther said.

"What is the penalty for the sons of kings? Fire or steel?"

Uther felt silenced, unable to respond with anything more than staring at the dragon, his body frozen where he stood. Somehow he did not expect such a callous question from this dragon who spoke in calm riddles and gentle prophecy.

Perhaps the heart of magic was indeed a dark and evil thing.

"I will fight to keep Camelot free of magic," Uther said quietly, "until my last breath."

The dragon watched him with old sad eyes for a long time. He appeared to give a most weary nod. "Yes. You will."

Uther nodded. Then without another word he turned his back on the creature and left.

## 

*

He was not quite sure what guided his feet towards Arthur's chamber, but halfway there he realised it was where he was headed. Perhaps seeing the bodies of the soldiers who died fighting the griffin and knowing how easily Arthur could have been one of them was not a thought easily cast aside. What he did not expect on his way was for that Myrddin boy to come rushing around a corner, grinning like a fool, walking straight into Uther and then rebounding to the floor. Uther watched him impatiently as he scrambled to his feet, dusting himself off as if presentation would make any difference at this point.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Oh. Um, Prince Arthur," Myrddin started, then quickly added, "I mean, he wanted some water. I was on my way to get..." He trailed off as Uther watched, sniffing and standing up a little straighter.

Uther tilted his head a little. "Go."

One thing was for certain, the boy could move fast. Maybe he wasn't as completely hopeless as he appeared. Uther continued to Arthur's chamber and pushed open the door, ready to greet him, possibly admonish him for keeping company with his servants this late. As his father had once told him, admonishing went a long way. Actually, come to think of it, it was during being admonished his father had given this particular piece of advice.

Uther frowned. His father had been unnecessarily harsh on occasion.

Uther said nothing when he entered the chamber to see Arthur sound asleep on top of the bedcovers and the free half of the quilt pulled over him. Uther eyed the rest of his son's chamber, finding clothes thrown on the floor as if in a hurry. It appeared Myrddin the manservant wasn't much of a servant. Of course, there was the rest of the room. Things lying on the floor when they should have been on the table and a table that appeared pushed out of place. It wasn't hard to imagine a tornado of youthful exuberance...unfortunately.

Uther sighed and looked at his son who seemed more smug than content in his inside-out nightshirt and recalled the idiotic grin on that Myrddin boy's face. Uther pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and sighing. He would just have to resign himself to Arthur's more..._princely_ habits. At least, for now. Besides, what king hadn't indulged in all manner of pursuits in the heat of youth. Uther could recall many a time... well, indeed.

Casting the sleeping prince one final look, Uther turned to leave. He chose to ignore the faint marks left on Arthur by the griffin, like he chose to ignore that only he and Lancelot returned alive. The boy was alive and well and the griffin had been defeated. Lancelot was gone. Those were the only things of importance tonight.

Stepping out of the chamber brought him face to face with Myrddin again, who came to a sudden stop, causing water to jump out of a pitcher he was holding in both hands. The water landed with a splash over Uther's feet. They both looked at Uther's feet for a long while, as if the water might magically climb up and back into the pitcher.

Uther looked at the boy to find a sheepish expression as he offered a, "Sorry," before stepping out of Uther's path.

Uther walked on without another look, hearing a sigh of relief behind him. "You," he said, turning back around, stopping Myrddin in his tracks, looking like a startled deer. "You are Arthur's manservant. Understand it is a privilege.” And then found himself telling the boy, “Serve him well."

Myrddin nodded and from the strange softening of his face it appeared that perhaps he understood the weight of his duties. "I know, Sire. I will."

Uther frowned. Myrddin's reply should not have provided such comfort. He stood holding a pitcher to his chest, water at his feet, looking every bit as ridiculous as Uther believed he was and it all seemed to fall apart at the open sincerity in his eyes. No wonder his son had such tolerance for this boy. There was something frightfully honest in the language of his face.

Uther nodded. "I am glad to hear it. Once in a while you may also care to clean his chamber. I have seen cleaner stables."

The boy flushed a furious red, stammering, "Oh, I was going to. I just, with the water, I was going to come back and um...” He took a deep breath and smiled. “I will.”

Uther allowed himself a small smile, nodding. "Perhaps in the morning. Let him sleep for now."

Myrddin nodded. "Sire."

Uther turned his back on the boy and walked away thinking of the magical creature that had made its way to Camelot, of Nimueh's continuing interference and the disconcerting serenity of a manacled dragon. These things did not lend themselves to sound sleeping and Uther knew there were many nights ahead of him yet, filled with waking and pacing. Still, as long as Camelot was safe at the end of every day and the castle floors remained strong enough to hold his pacing, Uther would not shy away from the sleepless nights. That was simply the difference between being a man and a king.

**\- the end -**

**Author's Note:**

> It took me a week to write this. A week. And then Nel betad it and offered to buy me a dictionary and 'The Book of How to Write Things That Aren't Lame: Your Guide to Arthur and Merlin Buttsex'. | Post **Lancelot**.


End file.
